


My Beloved Monster

by Corvid_Knight, silentsnowdrop



Series: Demonstuck [66]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: And Grimm is perfectly willing to bite you, But Grimm is a demon and Uthyr is a necromancer, I'm not totally sure what to warn for here, Other, They're not exactly nice people, This story also known as: Could You Two Please Get It Together, You're Adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsnowdrop/pseuds/silentsnowdrop
Summary: A routine night full of hacking and pining goes awry when the Striders get involved. Featuring a necromancer who is too smart for his own good, a demon who needs to stick to the plan, and the unmourned ends of human supremacists.
Relationships: OC/OC
Series: Demonstuck [66]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1003470
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46
Collections: Fanfiction For All Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I should add specific tags. Otherwise, please respect the rating and warnings; Grimm is polite, but they're not nice.

“All right, Uthyr. I’m in. Let me check the progress.”

It is inordinately reassuring to hear Grimm’s voice again, even if it’s tinny and compressed. The days spent playing at being an HDB goon end up being rewarding, sure, but having their voice is so much better.

You are also inordinately pleased that those thoughts are staying firmly in your head for once. Stress has a way of making you babble to Grimm if you’re not focused on something, and five years hasn’t come close to erasing that little fact.

“Six tomorrow, in fact.” Grimm’s absent voice startles you out of your mental tangent, and you suppress the urge to swear. “We should celebrate.”

“I...didn’t realize it was so close.” You try to keep your voice neutral, and anyone not Grimm wouldn’t hear the rueful note in. Grimm being Grimm, they do hear, and huff a gentle laugh.

“Let me worry about remembering dates, Uthyr. You have plenty to deal with as is.” The gentleness of their laugh suffuses their voice too, and your heart does a backflip.

_ God fucking damn it. _

You keep your voice appropriately smooth and free of helpless longing as you say, “Think I saw some wine in the kitchen. Should I grab it before we open the wards?”

Grimm scoffs. “Please. There’s no way that’s anything more than swill. I’ll tell you where to pick something up on your way back here.”

“You are amazingly picky for someone who eats corpses.”

“That’s simply sustenance. Wine is  _ culture. _ ” There’s a moment of quiet as Grimm types something, and then he says, “All right, we’re ready. Which secondary wards should I leave up?”

“Orange and black. There’s a chimera under the orange that probably won’t survive if any of the red demons decide to turn on her, and I don’t like the feeling of whatever’s on the black.” You grimace. “I don’t think it’s actually undead like they have it labeled, but an actual hunter needs to be the one to handle it.”

“I have some contacts that I can try before we take that risk.” There’s another moment of quiet typing. “All right, ready?”

The alarms, of course, choose that exact moment to go off.

You clap your hands over your ears at the grating screech. “Grimm, what the hell—”

“Incoming hunters. Not sure who, but you need to get out of there—”

Even over the screeching alarm, you hear approaching footsteps from deeper in the building. You have maybe fifteen seconds before you’re found not guarding what you’re supposed to guard, and if that happens you’re both going to be in serious trouble.

So you’re not going to let that happen.

“Sorry, Grimm.” You yank the little Bluetooth earpiece out of your ear and crush it under your heel, then reach into your pocket and force the battery of your little burner phone out of its socket. Then you grab your rifle and try to look as confused as possible.

All you have to do is go with them until you can slip out and get back to Grimm.

Easy.

As Grimm loves to remind you, you are a dumbass. Thanks to the narrow corridors of this place, it's not easy to get away from the three-man group that’s absorbed you You’re pretty sure this place was a hospital at some point, but whatever it was, the designers didn’t think it was important to put windows or other exits or  _ anything _ in these halls.

You follow the trio closely enough that you don’t get left behind, but far enough that you’re not really  _ with _ them. They don’t really seem to notice or care—they’re too busy muttering to each other in hushed panic. Apparently this is some sort of joint operation among several different groups of hunters, and the HDB is heavily on the losing side. The trio is spooked, any youthful bravado stripped away by the reality of fighting other hunters.

You almost feel sorry for them. The oldest among them is maybe twenty, after all. Most people would call that way too young to die.

Most people aren’t you. You were twenty yourself when you left, and you know these three don’t even have the excuse of being born a member of the HDB. They signed up to be human pieces of shit, and you’re not going to spare pity for them when you’ve heard them bragging about the beings they’ve murdered. Hell, if you weren’t outnumbered, you’d take care of them yourself. You’re just not fast enough to shoot all of them before they shoot you, and you don’t want to exhaust yourself pulling the souls of the still-living out of their bodies. If Grimm were here to soften them up, sure, you’d go for it, but right now they are far too alive for you to deal with alone.

So you follow them, up until you hear voices from a room ahead. You all pull up short, and beat a hasty retreat around the corner as the door starts to open. You hear four voices, all masculine, and note that they seem to be moving away from you.

They look at each other, then at you, and you give them a look of  _ well?  _ Their expressions grim, they raise their rifles. You sigh and pretend to do the same, and watch as they charge around the corner.

It’s over quickly, at least. There’s a nasty crunch like one of them found their head introduced to the nearby wall, and two choked cries of agony that make you think of being stabbed. The two thuds after tell you that they did not survive that, and you crook your fingers in the air and murmur under your breath in Latin, coaxing what bits of their souls that remain on this plane into the obsidian and iron pendant around your throat and adding them to the almost-full store there.

The process takes maybe five seconds. That’s plenty long enough for someone to realize you’re here.

As footsteps come toward the door, you carefully put the rifle down ( _ not _ aimed at the hall, thank you), put the pistol you were issued beside it, lace your fingers behind your head, and kneel. Your coat is open, and there’s no way you have anything on under the tight technical shirt you’re wearing. And last you checked, the HDB wasn’t using any sort of suicide bombers.

They shouldn’t just kill you out of hand.

You really fucking hope they don’t.

There were, in fact, four people in that room. Two are twins (you think. Something about the one with hair like bones under a setting sun makes you question that) watching you with blank faces only enhanced by their sunglasses. One is some sort of older relative to the twins whose expression of confusion is definitely not enhanced by his sunglasses. And the fourth…

Him you mark as the actual threat, and it’s not just because he’s head and shoulders taller than you and outweighs you by at least fifty pounds. There’s anger coiled all throughout his body that the other three don’t quite have, and if you’re not careful, he’s probably going to take your head off.

So it’s him you address, eyes focused closer to his chin than his eyes as you say, “I surrender, man, I swear, you can do whatever you want just please don’t kill me—“

You’re nowhere near as freaked out as your shaking voice suggests, but if you keep your cool, they’re probably going to suspect a trap. The big guy watches you for long enough that you wonder if he thinks it’s one anyway, but before you can actually panic, he looks at the paler twin. “Hal, do you have zipties?”

“In fact, I do.” Hal sheathes his katana with a slight smirk and walks toward you while digging in his pocket. Absolutely nothing about that expression is reassuring, and the end result is you can’t relax enough to keep it from hurting when he grabs your wrists and yanks them behind you.

He doesn’t tighten them enough to actually harm you, but you’re pretty sure you’re going to be a little raw from the plastic rubbing as he lets your hands go and starts patting you down. You do your best to continue to look freaked out as he takes your wallet (fake ID and a bit of cash, nothing too concerning), the burner phone (if he can figure out how to backtrace Grimm, you’ll eat your own socks), and your pocket knife (also doubles as an athame, if not a very strong one.)

He leaves you your necklace, and you’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to mess with it or can’t tell what it is. Either way, it’s reassuring to have in case this goes south.

Hal hauls you to your feet with absolutely no gentleness or warning, and if it weren’t for his hand in the back of your coat, you probably would have faceplanted. As it is, you lurch forward slightly and wince as your coat digs in hard under your arms. Hal completely ignores your distress as he asks, “Want me to shove him in the van?”

“Sure. Dirk, go with him.” Their relative taps his ear, where he’s got an earpiece in. “Stay in contact.”

“Will do, D.” Dirk does not sheathe his sword, just rests it on his shoulder. “Hal?”

“Don’t worry. We’re coming.” He gives you a sweet smile, then shoves you forward. “Get going.”

You are having some doubts about your chances of continued survival because of that smile. But you also have no choice here.

So you get going.

Hal’s smile absolutely did not bode well for your continued uninjured state. Fortunately, he’s not really hurting you, just shoving you along every now and then and not caring when you run into the corner of a wall or nearly trip and fall. Dirk is pretty much completely ignoring your existence, which you are perfectly fine with. If he weren’t, you have the feeling you might be finding out how sharp his sword actually is.

You’re shoved outside in short order, and Hal guides you to a white van that looks like the one in every single “don’t trust strangers” psa. Fortunately, when they shove you to sit in the back, it’s just got the familiar collection of things a hunter needs to survive. You watch them shuffle around for a moment, then close your eyes and let your head thunk back against the side of the van.

This, of course, means that you do not notice Hal getting a tranq dart until he stabs you with it.

You yelp in pain and try to recoil, but Hal’s grip on your arm keeps you from pulling the dart out as it pushes whatever it contains into your bloodstream. “What the  _ fuck _ —“

“Don’t worry, it’s just a ketamine blend.” Hal lets you go and plucks the dart out of your arm, then eases you down surprisingly gently to lay on the floor. “Just relax, and keep in mind that your continued existence depends on convincing us you should have it. Sweet dreams!”

You hear Dirk groan at his twin, and you would love to retort, but you’re too busy watching everything slowly swim out of focus around you. So with an internal groan, you close your eyes and wait to pass out.

Your last thought is a fervent prayer that you can get this taken care of before Grimm decides to come find you.

You really don’t want to see them hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

When Uthyr’s earpiece cuts out, you have to cling to every scrap of willpower you have ever had to not immediately step through the shadows around you to his side. 

For one, you don’t have any of the wards down and would simply smack into them.

For another, you have a plan set in place for situations like this. It is a good plan, with good reasoning behind it, and there are contingencies in place if something goes wrong with said plan. If you break the plan, you’ll put Uthyr in potential danger. The instinct to make an example of the pitiful humans who would dare harm what is yours is lying to you.

You’re having a hard time believing your internal monologue at this point, but it’s at least keeping you right where you are. Your earpiece is still hissing softly in your ear, and after a long moment you yank it out and toss it aside.

So. You have an hour to kill while you wait for Uthyr to contact you. Your pendant is currently indicating that Uthyr is alive and in possession of his pendant. You need to do something because just sitting here is going to eventually drive you to either madness or foolishness.

After a moment, you pull yourself to your feet, wrap shadows around your left leg to support it, and limp to where you’ve stowed your weapons.

The padded case comes open easily, and while you know that no-one else has been able to touch it, it’s still reassuring to see all of the weapons that are supposed to be there laid out in front of you. Most of them are practical for this day and age—a rifle, several pistols, the ammo needed to fire them, and a couple of blades of varying lengths. Uthyr is not much for close combat, and it shows in his part of the case.

You’re rather more interested in the single weapon in your part. To an uninformed eye, it simply looks like a cane made of dark-stained wood with a knob of bone. In fact, when Uthyr had first presented it to you, that’s what you had thought it was.

_ “...a cane.” You raise an eyebrow as the human holds out the item in question, refusing to blink until he squirms in discomfort. “Are you mocking me?” _

_ “Wh—no!” The human rolls his eyes and holds the cane out again. “Look, just take it.” _

_ Eyebrow still raised, you do. Your eyebrows rise higher as you find the cane to be heavier than you expected, but before examining that, you lever yourself to your feet and test whether it actually works. _

_ It...does, actually. It’s the right length, and the knob fits your hand properly. The extra point of contact helps your pain and your balance as you limp from your chair to the door. _

_ You blink, then turn and look at the human—Uthyr. You look at  _ Uthyr _ with something approaching appreciation, and say, “Thank you.” _

_ He smiles at you, and nods at the cane. “It’s not just a cane. Take a closer look.” _

_ You frown, then raise the cane to eye-level and do as asked. There is a subtle checkered pattern to about four inches of the cane, and below that, a thin, near-invisible gap. _

_ Your eyes widen, and you wrap your hand around the checkered hilt and pull. _

_ A blade slides out of the rest of the cane, the steel barely whispering against the dark wood. It’s maybe an inch wide and three feet long, and the steel is polished to a mirror shine. A quick look down the blade shows it to be straight, and a quick test of the edge shows it to be sharp. It’s solid in your hands—this is absolutely a weapon made for battle. _

_ You look at Uthyr. “...thank you. It’s a well-made sword.” _

_ Uthyr’s face lights up, and even from this distance, you can see the way his brown eyes catch the light from the fluorescent light in this half-rate motel room, turning it from painfully white to something warmer, closer to liquid gold. _

_ Your heart flutters in your chest, and you ruthlessly crush it. _

Not ruthlessly enough, it seems. Even the sight of the cane makes your heart flutter now, incongruous with your current panic. You welcome the sensation, allowing it to soothe you somewhat as you gently lift the cane and draw the sword.

The blade remains as true as the day you got it, but as you carefully look over the blade, you find it is showing some small spots of rust where you hadn’t quite cleaned it properly (which you won’t blame yourself for; it was a bit hectic, getting away from the HBD last time.) You’re also fairly certain that some of Uthyr’s guns need cleaning.

It’s not enough to soothe your resurgence of fury as you remember that Uthyr  _ isn’t here, _ but it’s something to do with your hands. It will keep you here, in this hotel room, waiting for him.

You reach for the cleaning kits, and get to work.

You’ve cleaned your sword and one of Uthyr’s pistols when the pendant around your neck goes icy enough to burn. You nearly drop the second pistol, then force yourself to set it down carefully as you wait for the metal and glass to rewarm itself.

It does not. It almost feels as if it gets colder as you wait, and you have to tug it out from your shirt so you don’t end up with frostbite. Your hands are shaking as you do so, no matter how much you tell yourself to calm down, he’s still  _ alive. _

He’s just been separated from his strongest source of power. The plan has failed. That is all.

( _ That is all.  _ You want to laugh at yourself for that thought.)

You pick up the pistols and slip them away into a place only you can reach, then use your cane to lever yourself to your feet. Your free hand comes up to grip your pendant, ignoring the cold, and you close your eyes and focus on the bond your pendant has with its mate.

It’s not a clear location, which makes your stomach lurch. The pendant—and Uthyr, by extension—has been moved behind some strong wards, and that means that the hunters who had invaded the HDB have taken him prisoner. With luck, he’ll be able to talk his way out of the situation.

You don’t put much stock in luck, especially when hunters are involved.

So you coalesce the darkness around you and step through the shadows to land as close as you can to the pendant.

It’s inside a smallish foursquare house, just like a dozen other houses you passed on your way into the nearby county seat. It’s sitting in the middle of a corn field, the stalks of which are providing you cover from the lights that are blazing around the outside of the house. You can feel the wards on it from here, and you have to resist the urge to withdraw as you peer around desperately for a way in that won’t involve simply burning through the wards with the extra power in your pendant and praying you don’t die.

You spot a shed with power lines linked to the house a little bit away from the house. The lights provide a shadow behind it, and when you step over to that shadow, no wards repel you.

_ Someone  _ fucked up and forgot to ward the backup generator.

A fangy smile crosses your face as you slip inside the shed. Someone was even kind enough to leave you tools.

Suddenly, your chances of rescuing Uthyr are beginning to look a lot better.


	3. Chapter 3

You wake up with a chemical hangover, no guns, no pendant, and tied to what you’re guessing is a kitchen chair with zip ties.

Not ideal, but at least you’re not dead. You’re also not alone, and you’re not really in a mood to play possum. So you crack your eyes open, wince a bit at the light, then slowly raise your head.

The elder blonde hunter from the base ( _ what was his name again? _ ) is sitting on another chair. It looks like he’d been fiddling with his phone while waiting for you to wake up, but now he’s staring at you. At least, you think he’s probably staring at you; the sunglasses make it hard to tell.

You stare at each other in silence for a moment. When it becomes apparent that the guy isn’t going to say anything, you decide to take initiative. "You're not going to believe me if I say I'm  _ not  _ HDB, are you?"

The guy snorts. “Can you convince me? Or, like, at least make an effort to?"

You blink. There’s a little sarcasm in his tone, but he mostly means it. "I could. But...what  _ would  _ convince you?" you ask tentatively.

"Uhh. Fuck." He pauses, visibly regrouping from the wrench you threw in the conversation, and you suppress amusement. "We can start with whatever the hell your explanation for what you were doing there is, if it's not 'working for those fuckers.'"

“It’s not.” You pause, trying to figure out how much you should say. You have no problems with hunters who aren’t the HBD. However, Grimm has a well-founded aversion to hunters, and generally hunters have a well-founded aversion to demons who regularly eat humans who annoy them. Ergo, you need to try to talk your way out of this without revealing Grimm if at all possible.

With that in mind, you shrug. “Most of what I was doing was cracking the wards.”

"Uh-huh, sure.” The guy’s voice is appropriately disbelieving. “Didn't get too far with that, huh?"

"Closer than you might think, but I was interrupted by your...untimely arrival." Your lips twist in frustration. “I didn’t finish opening them because, contrary to appearances, it’s not actually my idea of a good time to watch proper hunters get their faces eaten by chaos demons.”

"Damn, sorry that we didn't give you a heads-up we were about to raid your base." The guy pauses. "We're not going to get anywhere like this, obviously—how about we start with your name. Maybe the one that'd be in the HDB databases."

This time, you can’t suppress a smile. “The name in their databases is Gawain MacBhaird.”

_ “And why do you want me to replace your name with that?” The demon—Grimm. Their name is Grimm.  _ Grimm _ gives you a look of mixed suspicion and exasperation. “It would be so much cleaner to just delete every trace of your existence.” _

_ “Except we don’t know if someone’s still alive who knew me. In theory this should have been it, but you never know. Make it Gawain, make it look like he booked it a couple of days before the disaster hit, and they’ll be more interested in looking for him than listening to one or two people chattering about Uthyr Lloyd.” _

_ “Hm.” Those white eyes watch you, and you try to meet them. “You’re extremely paranoid for such a young human.” _

_ “Hey, I thought I was going to have to do this alone if I survived. Cut me some slack.” You shoot them a quick grin, still looking into their eyes. It’s not as hard as it was a few seconds ago—they’re not just blank white voids. Little spiderwebs of grey shift with each blink, and you feel like you’re being drawn in with each passing second. _

_ Then Grimm shakes their head with a derisive snort and looks away, breaking the spell. “Fine. If they locate you later, I will not be saving you.” _

_ “I mean, that’s fair.” You try to keep the disappointment out of your face as you look away. _

_ Their eyes really are fascinating. _

You’re drawn out of your ill-timed reverie by the guy’s phone chiming. He takes a second to read the text, then looks up at you. "...huh. you're listed as a fugitive asset."

“...sounds about right.”

For  _ some _ reason, your not-really-an-answer isn’t satisfactory. That’s what you read from the raised eyebrow, anyway. "Wanna explain that a bit more? I mean, I could just see how many linked files Hal can pull, but that seems a li’l bit rude when you're right here."

You shrug, trying to keep casual. "Shouldn't be much more than that to pull. Long story short, I got sick of being an asshole and booked it."

"Oh, there's probably more to pull. What the hell you are, for one. Why they didn't just hunt you down and execute you, for another." He raises both eyebrows this time. "Here's a hint: I'm more interested in the second one."

"I'm human, and I'm  _ very  _ good at playing dead.” You give him a brief and entirely honest grin. “Also, I don't stop moving, don't have any traceable assets, and do my best to be unmemorable."

Which, truth be told, is extremely easy. In fact, being unmemorable is probably the biggest reason the HBD haven’t caught on to you yet. You could blend in anywhere brown hair and pale skin is the norm, after all.

The man stares at you again, possibly hoping to make you squirm. Joke’s on him though—Grimm’s gaze is way more intimidating than a pair of aviators. "...see, the 'pure human' thing only really works when the other half of your cover story isn't 'taking down wards.'" He sighs, glancing down at his phone again, and you grimace when you’re sure you aren’t being watched. "Don't tell me you straight out forgot the rest of it, c'mon. I know Hal didn't rough you up bad enough to forget shit."

"As far as I know, I'm human.” Absolutely true. “And since a good chunk of their wards are computer based, a slow-working worm can get through them if you give it enough time.” Also true. “That would be why I was pretending to be one of them, rather than sneaking in and out." Mostly true. Grimm is good enough to be nearly undetectable, but you  _ are _ a little paranoid.

The guy checks his phone again. "I mean, according to the database and the shit we pulled off you, you're not  _ just  _ human, but sure, we'll go with that one. You're still not doing a great job on the whole convincing me thing."

Your brows knit slightly. You have no idea what would be tagging you as non-human on the HDB’s database. "I am a necromancer, if that counts as non-human. Decently skilled, even. But my mother would have never let something anything less than a hundred percent human fuck her.” You shrug as best you can. “I'm not lying, but I'm not sure what else you want from me here."

"I mean, I get that trust is a bit high to aim for, but I'll settle for truthfulness. Which I’m going to guess I just got, since I don't think talismans like the one you had pass from owner to owner too well."

The past tense makes your stomach drop. "...please tell me it's still intact."

"Just because we're hunters doesn't mean we're stupid. It's in one piece, carefully stored, with nobody who isn't damn near immune to most magic shit allowed to touch it."

You breathe a soft sigh of relief. You still have time to talk your way out—Grimm won’t think you’re dead so long as it’s intact. They’re probably searching for a way in, but so long as the wards are strong, they won’t find one until you can get to them. “So. Any chance I can at least stretch my legs any time soon?"

"More of a chance than you started with, yeah." You notice, quite clearly, that he is not making any move to release you from the chair. "So you're pure human? Other than the mage thing."

"As far as I know. It's technically possible that dear old dad had non-human blood, but I wouldn't bet on it." You’re certain that if you’d shown any sign of being non-human upon birth, your mother would have killed you on the spot. She may have been an utterly horrible human being, but at least she was a  _ consistently _ utterly horrible human being.

"Yeah, that's fair. So you've got some kind of partner, then?"

You hesitate for precisely a moment too long "...No."

"See, somewhere in here's a lie." You’re pretty sure the guy is examining you closely, and you know you’re doing a completely shitty job of keeping your nervousness down, but you can’t back down now.

So you do your best to give an unconcerned shrug. "Why'd you say that?"

"Remember the datamining thing we talked about? I got a guy going through where you were working on the wards; there's shit that humans can't use in there, and we both know the HDB don't let anyone who's not human set their shit up."

...You will admit to forgetting that Grimm uses demonic code. To be fair to you, wards in general aren’t your forte, but now you absolutely have a problem. "I'm not exactly the best coder, so I paid someone to write the worm for me."

"...you paid someone." The sheer disbelief in that one statement makes you want to laugh. Do you really look that poor?

"Yes. Untraceable assets does not mean no assets." Cash for humans and rare materials for others, usually. Your car is worth far less than what you carry inside it.

"And they're still alive, or...?"

All of your good humor immediately vanishes. “Yes,” you almost-growl. “I don’t just kill people who know about me.”

"See, you're definitely still lying about something here. Makes it really hard to talk the guy in charge that turning you loose isn't a fucking horrible idea.”

The idea that this man isn’t the head of this operation catches you off-guard. “You're not the one in charge here?"

"Right now, nah." He shrugs, flashing an actual grin, and you let some of your offended anger go. "I take second chair for HDB shit unless y'all're fucking with my kids. What, are you disappointed it's not as easy as just talking me around?"

"Partially. Partially wondering who  _ is _ in charge, then.” Generally, in your experience, the one in charge comes in to at least gloat or intimidate during an interrogation. However, the times that you’ve worked with “actual hunters” can be counted on one finger if you use the knuckles, and you’re fairly sure basing any of your assumptions about their deeper workings on the HDB would be a good way to get a deserved punch in the face.

"Trust me, you don't want to talk to him until you quit lying about shit. He doesn't have the best history with y'all."

You take a deep breath. "There are very few people outside the HDB who have a good history with the HDB. And I am not lying when I say I am no longer a member of the HDB."

"I mean, I believe you on that.” He shrugs, but you can feel his focus sharpen on you further. “The big question at this point is whether you're planning on summoning something as soon as you're loose."

"No. That would be a poor idea even if I were hostile." If you have your way, Grimm won’t ever step foot in here.

"Yeah, well, I tend to run into a lot of idiots, and you  _ are _ lying to me."

"I'm not that stupid.” You grit your teeth. Then you allow some more of the truth through, despite the disadvantage it may put you at. “And I have no reason to believe that you won't just run me through if I tell the full truth."

"First off, do I look like I've got a sword on me?" He raises his arms, and you do have to admit that he’s visibly unarmed—probably so that you can’t get your hands on anything in case you get free. “Look at it this way--we didn't kill you for the necromancer thing, and I really doubt you're working with something worse than that."

You hesitate. "I'm stuck to a chair. It wouldn't be hard to go get something. ...And as for the second part--"

That's when the lights flicker and go out.

Your voice breaks the sudden silence in a rasp."Oh, hell."


	4. Chapter 4

The man started moving when the lights first flicker; he's beside the chair as they go out for good, pulling a knife from somewhere you don’t see and leaning down to get you loose from the chair. You reassess his unarmed status as he asks, "’Oh hell’ like this is a friend of yours or ‘oh hell’ like you know who's about to try and kick our asses?"

"Both."

There’s a deep, bestial snarl from the other room that makes the man wince. You just hope that someone grabbed a flashlight—if you’re right about the state Grimm is in, that could give you a few extra seconds to negotiate for both of your lives.

"Great. Awesome." As soon as you're free he pulls out his phone, tapping at it until the light on the back comes on. He gives you a glance as you straighten up. “Any chance you can talk them out of the ass-kicking thing?

"I don't know, but I'll sure as hell try.” You yank open the door—

\--just in time to see a form that is mostly shadows with the exception of two white eyes launching out of the darkness to attack one of the twins, bouncing him off of the floor hard enough to make you wince.

"Ah shit." The man freezes for maybe a second, then shoulders you out of the way, phone light trained on the mass of shadows and knife up. "Hey, fucker—you hurt him and nobody's getting out of here in one piece."

The knife, you know, isn’t enough to make Grimm so much as hesitate. The light, however, is enough to make them flinch and vanish into the shadow behind them. Before either hunter can react, they reappear beside the man, grab his arm, and fling him away from you.

The knife clatters to the floor as he hits the wall, but he manages to keep his grip on the light. He pushes himself back to his feet and backs up to stand by the other hunter instead as Grimm turns to face them. "So this is what you were being cagey about? A fucking demon? Are you kidding me?"

You hiss softly through your teeth as Grimm flinches back toward you from the light. Not only is Grimm in no state to be reasonable with hunters, if they’re flinching from even the low-lumen phone light… “Put the fucking light down!”

"Yeah, no, I like being alive." He does lower it, though, enough that most of the illumination's from reflected light rather than direct. It’s not nearly enough, but it’s a start. "...if it helps? I definitely believe you on the not-HDB thing now."

“I appreciate that, but you are absolutely not the only person here.  _ Verdammt, Grimm— _ “

You get a sharp hiss for your trouble as Grimm’s form expands, covering as much of you as they can.

Fortunately, the hunters don’t seem too threatened by that. "We have eyes, dumbass, HDB members don't have demons show up ready to tear shit apart to get them back."

You shake your head. “Still not what I mean. Do either of you speak German?” Grimm isn’t reacting to anything that’s been said not out of lack of  _ desire, _ but of  _ understanding _ . It doesn’t matter how convincing the hunters are—if they don’t speak German, you’re the only one who can talk Grimm down, and you  _ really  _ don’t want shot if they mistake what you’re saying for a threat.

"...uh." The elder hunter glances at the younger, and gets a shrug in return. "Other than shitty google translate German, no. Grey might, but let's not add another potential hostage to this."

You pause. When you speak next, it’s slow and reluctant. “...right now, if anyone’s a hostage, we are. You have the light.”

"...ah. Shit." He sighs, lowering the light further to leave the two of them mostly in shadows. In front of you, you can barely see Grimm begin to regain cohesion, and you hope that they’re willing to let you talk instead of attacking again. "I doubt you're going to be able to magic yourself out. Hell, I don't know how you magicked yourself in; I know there were decent wards up..."

You gently rub Grimm’s back, and are rewarded by a little purr you feel better than you hear. “My guess, brute force and a little extra juice. I...made them a pendant like the one you took from me.” Theirs was fully charged, too. Frankly, you’re surprised nothing caught on fire after that amount of power output.

"Oh. Yeah, that'd do it...are they hurt?"

“I don’t know.” You bite your lip, then take the risk. “ _ Grimm, bist du verletzt _ ?”

When they finally speak, it’s in that same bass snarl they had earlier. “... _ Nein. Wer _ ...?”

“ _ Freunde. Es ist sicher _ .”

“... _ Dein Akzent ist schrecklich _ .” The familiar complaint makes you bite your lip as they shake their head slowly. “ _ Ein Moment, bitte. _ ”

"...I think I got two words out of that. maybe three." You look up from watching Grimm as the man shakes his head and looks at his fellow hunter. "Go get his shit and talk Grey down from defcon five, would you? Uh—I'm guessing the power's gone until Dirk or somebody fixes it. Damn."

“It’s not irreparably damaged. I just cut the wires.” As the other hunter leaves, Grimm finally coalesces into their normal form. You can’t see all of them from behind, but you know their blank white eyes and the white horns curving over their ears are probably the only things visible to the elder hunter, thanks to literally every other part of Grimm’s body being black as night.

The hunter seems unfazed. "Okay, cool, that...could be worse." He pans the light across the ground and retrieves his knife, then just shrugs. “I mean, I'm still not fixing it, but still."

"Trying to do anything more would have risked an explosion at best.” They sigh, then continue in their softly-accented English, “I...am sorry if I caused you inadvertent harm."

That...surprises you. Grimm doesn’t just apologize to people. You reach out to touch their back again, and find them stiff and barely breathing, waiting for the hunter to attack.

The hunter shrugs again. "You picked the right guy to try and beat the shit out of, at least." 

"I did?” Their voice is laced with faint amusement, and you feel them begin to breathe deeper.

"Yeah, he gets his ass kicked about once every couple weeks anyway. Plus, if anything’s actually fucked up, you just get to help fix the code.” Grimm tilts their head curiously at that, but says nothing as the hunter continues, “I'm guessing you're the coder he, uhhhh...hired, huh?"

"Is that the story he told you?” They’re still amused, you hear, and the tension is beginning to ebb away. So, you play along.

"Yeah, because you don't like hunters."

Grimm snorts softly. "That's still a terrible cover story."

"If it helps with the not liking hunters thing, you're definitely not up for like. Actually being hunted."

That gets Grimm’s attention, and brings back the stillness. “Then you are very forgiving or very foolish.”

The hunter raises an eyebrow. "What, because we don't go after demons for trying to defend their boyfriends? Right. Really foolish here."

“No.” You can hear the threatening smile in their voice, even as you splutter in embarrassment. “Because I eat people.”

If Grimm was looking to unnerve the hunter (and they absolutely were,) they failed. He just snorts, looking between the two of them. "Three of my kids-in-law eat people. You're not all that special."

“Hm. Interesting.” It seems the hunter has passed a test. Grimm relaxes as much as they’re going to, and leans back into you as you continue to blush. “Nevertheless, we should probably go out and talk to the rest of your allies before anything else happens—“

On the first floor, windows shatter.

"For fuck's sake—" The hunter groans, immediately shoving his phone into his pocket to dim the light further and stepping to put his back against the wall. "If you can get out? Maybe do that now."

“Not with Uthyr. Getting in here took more than I could spare, even with the talisman.” They snap their hand out and pull one of your 1911’s out of the darkness. You take it and make sure it’s loaded as they pull their cane from between dimensions as well.” I can still fight, however.”

"That's—yeah, fine, just don't kill any of my people, alright?"

“I don’t intend to.” They vanish into the shadows, and you sprint for the stairs after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My German is somewhat limited. If you have tips on improving what I've said there please let me know!
> 
> Grimm, bist du verletzt?” --Grimm, are you injured?  
> "...Nein. Wer...?” --No. Who...?"  
> “Freunde. Es ist sicher.” --Friends. It is safe.  
> “...Dein Akzent ist schrecklich.” --Your accent is terrible.  
> “Ein Moment, bitte.” --One moment, please.


	5. Chapter 5

It seems that the hunters did not succeed in eliminating the HDB presence in the area, if you are to judge by the small army that is assaulting the building. You would be annoyed, but the HDB are slippery at best. It’s not the hunters’ fault, as much as it galls you to admit that.

These aren’t precisely normal hunters, besides. Even as you hide in the shadows of the stairwell, you can hear the sapient homunculus that you attacked earlier snarking at his opponent, and all throughout the house are traces of strong non-human magic that you can’t quite place. You cannot think of a hunter you’ve encountered willing to work with either of those things.

Perhaps times are changing. Enough so that you can at least cut them some slack.

You’re jolted out of your musings by the elder hunter and Uthyr taking the stairs two at a time behind you. The hunter bypasses you, launching himself at a HDB member holding a machete and sending them both to the floor, but Uthyr stops next to you, surveying the scene. “What’s the plan?”

You look around yourself, watching the battle begin to unfold. Some of the HDB are armed with machetes or swords, while others are just outside the house, firing when they have a clear shot. “I want you to stay in the house. The homunculus I attacked is in there; stay with him and guard his back if you can. Try to keep the HBD’s attention while I go turn down the lights.”

Outside, behind their gunmen, the HBD have parked large trucks with LED high beams shining into the house from the shattered door and the broken windows. You’re fairly certain stepping in front of one would instantly burn your skin as you are now, but in the cabs behind the lights you can sense blessed darkness. One simple step will take you there.

There’s an infuriated roar, and a huge, inhuman being flings a HDB member through the kitchen door. Uthyr flinches a bit. “Are you sure we’ll need to?”

Three red-feathered darts sprout from the being’s shoulder. After a few seconds, they begin to stagger, and the elder hunter shouts something in rage.

“...never mind. I’ll go support the...uh...homunculus.” Uthyr puts a shot into one of the HDB’s helmets, shattering her headlamp and sending her to the floor in a welter of blood. “I should probably get his name instead of just calling him a homunculus?”

“That, as they say, is your problem.” You give Uthyr a fangy grin as he snorts, then step through the darkness, ignoring the offended look you get from the young man approaching Uthyr.

He looks rather like the homunculus. Perhaps his creator?

You shake the fleeting thought off as you appear in the backseat of one of the trucks. The driver hasn’t noticed you yet, something you make permanent by driving your blade into their neck.

It pierces what you can only guess is their carotid from the sudden gush of blood, and you ignore their brief, choking cries as you clamber up to the front seat and turn the lights off before breaking the control stem. You pause briefly to dry your blade and sheathe it, then shift to the next car.

The inside lights snap on, and you can’t help a cry of pain as you flinch away. Then a hand clamps down on your throat, cutting off all of your air.

You thrash against the grip as the driver leans over you, crushing your throat further. His hazel eyes light up in fury as he covers your mouth and nose, probably intending to suffocate you further.

Unfortunately, he’s not holding your jaw shut.

Unfortunately for  _ him _ , that is.

You sink your teeth into his hand. Blood immediately spatters your face as he jerks back and tears himself open. His screams of pain make you wince, but he releases you.

You lunge for his throat.

The screaming stops rather abruptly.

You punch the light above you until it turns off as you sit back and swallow, then hastily wipe your face on what part of the dead man’s shirt is still dry. When the high beams are disabled, you sit for a moment, trying not to pant. If you had time, you would finish off the body—your hands are trembling in exhaustion already.

But you have larger problems, evinced by several bullets that come far too close to killing you as the rest of HDB finally attempt to deal with you permanently. Sighing, you grab your cane, and step into the shadows before reappearing behind the nearest man.

Without the high beams, their headlamps leave broad shadows, even with their wide beams. The confusion of light and shadow gives you plenty of cover, and you slip from shadow to shadow, slicing throats and perforating lungs.

Your hunter allies are holding their own. You find yourself back-to-back with the eldest for a moment, then snap to the homunculus’ creator’s side, slicing through another man’s guard and bringing him down. Bullets barely miss you as you slide to the shadows by the stairs again and search for Uthyr.

You don’t see him until you hear him swear in frustration.

He’s by a side door, hidden as best he can in the shadows and having run out of bullets in a gun he’s borrowed from one of the HDB. You step through the shadows and hold out a new magazine, smiling as his eyes light up. “My apologies for not supplying you with a replacement.”

“Thanks. I fucking hate the Glocks they use—might be because they don’t seem to know how to clean them, but they’re still crap.” He draws his 1911 and slots the magazine into place, then snaps off two shots as he continues to babble. “Also, you sound like hell, and not in a scary way. Go help Hal—that’s the homunculus—with Mothman. We have it from here.”

You smile wider, endeared by the concern. “Far be it from me to countermand you—“

Later, you won’t be sure what warned you—a flash of light, perhaps, or a whisper of sound. All you will remember is seeing the black eye of a gun barrel aiming at Uthyr, and feeling his shoulder against yours as you shove him aside.

The gun fires three times.

The first and second put holes the size of your thumb in your lung. The second strikes you in the gut.

You stumble back, into the wall, then slide down it. The pain is immense, a living thing that burns within you and consumes you alive.

You think you should scream, but all you can manage is a wet cough that splatters black blood on the floor in front of you.

Uthyr’s screaming enough for both of you, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

When you were twelve, your father died.

You felt it happen, watched it happen, and didn’t sleep for a week.

When you were seventeen, you killed a man with necromancy for the first time.

It nearly made you pass out.

When you were twenty, you stole a soul for the first time.

You threw up.

None of those made you feel like this.

You can feel Grimm’s soul fading with every frozen millisecond. Your ears are ringing, and you vaguely notice everyone recoiling from your shriek, but your vision is dominated by the black blood splattered on the floor and streaked on the wallpaper.

Then time catches up with you, and you realize that Grimm is about to die if you don’t do something.

You reach out with your powers and tear the soul of the man who just shot (not killed they’re still alive they’re  _ still alive _ ) Grimm. Fear and fury give you strength as you do the same to the rest of the HDB, and you think you see D flinch as the man in front of him falls over dead.

You don’t have time to consider the ramifications of what you’re doing. You just gather as much of their souls as you can into a glowing orb of power, then spin and plunge it into Grimm’s chest. They gasp and hack up another gout of blood, but the wounds don’t seal. You can feel their heart fluttering in their chest, and more importantly you can feel their soul slowly losing strength. Trying to hold onto it is like trying to hold sand.

_ Uthyr—don’t— _

“Shut up, Grimm,” you growl as you ignore the way your hand is going cold. “You’re not dying on me.”

_ You don’t...have the strength… _

“Yes I do!” You press a little harder against their chest, firming your connection, then turn and yell, “D! I need my necklace,  _ now! _ ”

You don’t wait to see if D listened to you. You just turn back around and look Grimm in the eyes. They’re near-invisible, pained slits of white in a sea of black, but you know they’re looking at you. “Just hold on, Grimm. I just need you—“

Your voice breaks, and you bow your head, eyes clenched shut against tears. “I just need you to hang on.”

For a moment, there is only terrible silence.

Then one of Grimm’s hands covers the one you have pressed to their chest. The painful terror doesn’t ease, but new determination floods both of you.

_ I...can do that. _

You don’t know how long it takes for D to get your necklace. It could be an hour, or a day, or a second. Your focus narrows to the trembling hand on yours, and your dogged clutching at Grimm’s soul. The cold spreads up your arm.

If Grimm dies right now, you’ll die too. You don’t care.

Then a marble wrapped in iron wire is placed in your hand, and you raise your head.

The obsidian orb glints for a moment before D turns the light away. You curl your fingers around it, feeling every soul you’ve trapped over the years writhing under your fingers. It’s not quite full.

It doesn’t need to be.

You clench your fist, then drive it into the floor. The obsidian is already fragile from the strain of containing all of that power, and you easily crush it to powder and release the souls within. They shriek, sending another wave of psychic backlash through the room that you completely ignore. Before they can escape, you compress them into another orb, this one so bright it almost blinds you, and shove it into Grimm’s chest.

You feel them fighting you, refusing to meld with Grimm. You snarl, teeth bared, and mentally force the souls together. You  _ are _ their master and they  _ will _ obey you--

The backlash goes off with a crack that you feel in your bones, launching you back until you land sprawled on the carpet. You’re pretty sure your hands are burned, and you think your nose is bleeding, but you don’t even pause to wince as you scramble upright and lurch to Grimm’s side.

They’re utterly still in the reflected light of D’s flashlight. You freeze, then touch their shoulder with shaking fingers.

They gasp in a deep breath, then start hacking the lingering blood out of their lungs. You hastily roll them onto their side so they don’t choke, and you think you ask someone to get some water, but you’re too preoccupied with the relief threatening to make you explode.

They cough for at least a minute, further ruining the carpet with black ichor. When they sit up, they’re still trembling and wheezing slightly, but their gaze is clear as they wipe their mouth. “...ow. Are you...are you all right, Uthyr?”

“I’m fine. You?”

They blink slowly. “...alive. I’m...alive.”

“Good,” you say, and kiss them.

It’s…

...to be perfectly honest, it’s a terrible kiss. Grimm’s mouth is still coated in their own blood inside and out, and it tastes like burnt coffee and corroded pennies. They’re too surprised to actually reciprocate anyway, so you’re mostly just mashing your lips into theirs with all the terror and relief that comes with watching someone you love avoid death.

But at the same time, they’re alive. And when you pull away, they look stunned, yeah, but there’s also joy there too, like the first blades of grass in spring.

You swallow in preparation to speak, then gasp in pain as Grimm’s blood burns its way into your stomach. “Ow, fuck...that won’t kill me, will it?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Grimm takes the water that’s being handed to them and takes a drink to rinse their mouth. “...I will not promise to never do that again.”

“That’s fine,” you say as you take a sip of the water to clean your own mouth. As you spit, you continue, “Just don’t try to tell me not to save you.”

“...that’s fair.” They reach up and gently wipe your lips clean of blood. “It’s not as if I could stop you, anyway.”

Then they kiss you.

This time, it’s almost perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be an epilogue at sometime in the future, but for now this is it. Thank you for reading!


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